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 2 i 
 
 Runyan 
 
 I want a woman with a soul, 
 and other poems
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 

 
 / Want a Woman With a Soul 
 
 and Other Poems 
 
 By ARTHUR LESTER RUNYAN 
 
 Copyrighted 1919 
 
 By A. L. RUNYAN 
 Omaha, Neb.
 
 PS 
 
 3 3 5 
 
 . L 
 
 A VISION OF YOUTH 
 
 As I am riding along on a Northwestern line, 
 A-watching the fields with their crops so fine, 
 
 The farmers at work in the early morn, 
 
 A-mowing the hay and plowing the corn, 
 And the children on their way to school 
 Are wading in a shallow pool. 
 
 The cattle feeding in the pastures green 
 Is one of the grandest sights I ve seen. 
 And it takes me back to boyhood day 
 To a little farm in Iowa; 
 
 Back to that grove of maple, where we used to swing for hours, 
 Back to the woods along the stream, where we gathered teacher flowers, 
 Back to those fields of clover and the gentle waving corn, 
 Back to the dear old farm, the place where I was born. 
 
 Years have passed since those days and my hair has turned to grey, 
 
 But I would give most anything to be a boy today, 
 
 To hear the bells a-ringing as the cows come home at night, 
 
 To be a boy among the boys and fly a long-tailed kite. 
 
 To hear the robin and the lark as they sang their songs of love, 
 To hear the chuckle of the squirrel and the cooing of the dove, 
 To get up early in the morn, when the air was fresh and cool, 
 We d take our books and dinner pails and scamper off to school. 
 
 And when the day was ended and we were home once more, 
 We d find our mother waiting in that same old kitchen door. 
 When supper it was over and the chores had all been done, 
 We d have a game of some sort Yes, those were days of fun. 
 Bat youth has flown; old age is here, and I am bending at the knee, 
 But it does me good to see such sights, for I know the life is free. 
 
 Copyrighted and Published August 10, 1911 
 
 759766
 
 A MONUMENT TO A NATION S BROKEN HEART 
 
 I stood at the top of the great Eiffel Tower, 
 
 And gazed o er the city of Paris, 
 The sun sank at rest in the golden west 
 
 And the atmosphere was fairest. 
 
 I watched the lights as they shone so bright 
 
 In the depths of the river Seine, 
 And the arch of triumph erected there 
 
 That honored soldiers slain. 
 
 I thought of the streets that once flowed with blood, 
 
 Until it nearly made me swoon. 
 I could hear the groans of the dying, 
 
 As I looked on Napoleon s tomb. 4 
 
 I thought of his suffering army on the trip from old Moscow, 
 
 Of the soldiers starving, freezing in that deep and bitter snow, 
 
 Of the city all in ashes, of the families that had fled, 
 
 Of the soldiers that were dying and those that were left dead, 
 
 Of that once grand army all in rags, with their hands and feet 
 
 so bare 
 And I wondered if Napoleon had heart enough to care. 
 
 I could see him at Waterloo, when he gave the fatal order. 
 When horse and hero rushed to death, just across the border. 
 
 I could hear the roar of the cannon, as it fired off its load, 
 
 I could see the fate of the Cavalry, as they reached the hidden road, 
 
 I could hear the cry of the soldiers that never got across, 
 
 I could see Napoleon weeping, when he realized he d lost. 
 
 And I thought of those wives made widows, when the news had reached 
 
 their ears, 
 I could hear the moans of sweethearts, and see the children all 
 
 in tears. 
 And I thought of the hearts he d broken, of the money he had spent, 
 
 And the Isle of St. Helena where he finally was sent, 
 And I wondered why they brought him back and built that tomb 
 
 of Art; 
 Unless it was a monument to the Nation s broken heart. 
 
 Copyrighted and Published, April 6, 1911
 
 TIME HAS MADE ME SAD 
 
 Time has made me sad for it has robbed me of my Youth, 
 And separated me from Home where I was taught the Truth. 
 It has robbed me of a Mother who was noble, kind and true, 
 That loved to teach her children the proper things to do. 
 
 Methinks, I hear her reading those same old stories through 
 And telling us when we grew up what she would like to have, us do. 
 At times I hear her calling bedtime and breakfast boys 
 And my heart is filled with sadness in the place of boyhood joys. 
 
 I see her in the garden with her snow white locks so fair, 
 Among the roses pink and red, that always blossomed there. 
 I think of mother li ving and those dying words I heard her say : 
 "My Son, we ll surely meet again beyond the great white milky 
 way." 
 
 Tho Time has had no mercy and has gone a mighty pace 
 But I never will forget the smiles on dear old mother s face. 
 I miss those good-night kisses and the prayers she used to say. 
 And I would give up health and fortune to live with her one day. 
 
 Copyrighted and Published, April 6, 1911
 
 NOTHING S TOO MUCH TROUBLE FOR A FRIEND 
 
 Nothing s too much trouble for a friencf; for a friend that s your friend, 
 
 Not for what you have to lend, but a friend that s your friend 
 When you need a friend. 
 
 The friend I mean is the kind of a fellow, 
 When you re down and out that won t turn yellow, 
 
 But will pick you up and say "Old scout, 
 Right about face, this way out," 
 
 And he ll help you, shoulder arms to fight, 
 That s the kind of a friend that s right. 
 
 For a friend like that you can slave and toil, 
 He s worth more to you than standard oil. 
 
 For a friend that s your friend, 
 N ot for what you have to lend, nothing s too much trouble. 
 
 Copyrighted and Published, March 1, 1913
 
 THE WHITE SLAVE 
 
 r 
 
 I know my life is ending, for my heart is beating slow, 
 But I want to speak a word or two before I have to go. 
 
 I ve lived a life of sorrow, a life of scarlet shame, 
 
 But if you knew the circumstance I*m sure you wouldn t blame. 
 My father was a drunkard, and was drunk most all the time, 
 And mother died and left us when I was just past nine. 
 
 I struggled hard for bread enough for myself and little Ben, 
 
 But he was taken with a fever and died when I was ten. 
 And when they laid him in his grave I covered it with sod, 
 And knelt there and prayed for strength to the Almighty God, 
 
 To help me live a life free from sin and vice, 
 
 For I was all alone in a world as cold as ice. 
 Then for months and years I toiled until I was seventeen, 
 I was the picture of my mother, and as pure as any queen. 
 
 But one day a villian who claimed to be a man 
 
 Said he would protect me and love me for my hand. 
 Day after day he came with those same sweet words of love; 
 He called me his Lily, his Venus, and his Dove, 
 
 He sang me songs of love till my heart beat fast within, 
 
 Apd I threw my arms about his neck, for I dearly worshipped him. 
 He d lavished love upon me until I gave my heart away, 
 Then he brought me to this place and I ve been a White Slave until 
 today. 
 
 We got here in the evening I would say perhaps twas eight, 
 
 And I wondered if my love for him could ever turn to hate. 
 He said, "Wait here, my Darling. My Venus never fear, 
 For I will get the license and bring the preacher here." 
 
 But ere the clock struck nine he had returned with lunch and wine. 
 
 He said that he was sorry but the court house it was closed, 
 And he couldn t get the license until tomorrow, he supposed. 
 But he said, "You mustn t worry, nor allow yourself to fret, 
 
 For you and I will be as one before tomorrow s sun has set." 
 So we ate our lunch together and everything was fine, 
 
 And for the first time in my life my lips were stained with wine. 
 
 And, after I had drunk it my brain was in a whirl, 
 And before the sun had risen I was a ruined girl. 
 
 When I awoke I found he d left, that he d broken every vow; 
 " And I d pierce his heart with a dagger, if I had him here right now. 
 You ask what made those bruises, and those scars upon my breast; 
 
 Why, I ve been kicked and pounded the same as all the rest. 
 
 Oh! if you but knew the suffering of girls in all such places, 
 I m sure you d publish far and wide, for they are National Disgraces. 
 But do you think St. Peter will admit me to the place 
 
 Where I can meet my mother and Bennie face to face, 
 
 Or will he say, when he knows my life of shame, 
 "We cannot have you here, girl, for you were all to blame." 
 
 Copyrighted and Published, August 10th, 1911
 
 
 
 
 
 iSffl//
 
 I WANT A WOMAN WITH A SOUL 
 
 
 
 Were you ever out on the Western Plains, 
 
 With nobody but the boys; 
 And your heart just longed for a home of your own, 
 
 With a wife, some kids and their toys. 
 For a home of your own where the grass is green 
 
 In some shady little nook, 
 With her as your queen and you as her king, 
 
 And the children your laughing brook. 
 When you ve followed the herd for days and days, 
 
 Through the dust and blinding heat 
 And you re stiff and sore from your hat rim down 
 
 To the soles of your aching feet. 
 And the horse you ride is tired too 
 
 You can feel it in every step. 
 You do not mind it while he s fresh, 
 
 But when he tires you lose your pep. 
 And the food you get is not the kind 
 
 That mother used to make 
 id you swear the poorest cook on earth 
 
 Is that fellow Sagebrush Jake. 
 I ve ridden the ranges for fifteen years 
 
 And I ll tell the world it s hell 
 To never hear a woman s voice 
 
 Or the ring of the old church bell. 
 I ve seen the leaves come out in May 
 
 And dry up in the Fall ; 
 I ve watched the birds mate up this Spring. 
 
 And I guess I ve heard their call. 
 So I ve sold my cattle and said goodby 
 
 To the boys of the open air, 
 And I ve money enough to buy a home 
 
 And support a woman fair. 
 But I want a woman that wants a home 
 
 As bad as I want one, 
 That s willing to enter the valley of death. 
 
 For a daughter or a son. 
 That s the kind of a woman I want 
 
 And I want her on the square 
 I want a woman to be my pal, 
 
 Like the boys of the open air. 
 "or they are as true to you 
 
 As the needle to the pole, 
 And I want a woman of that sort, 
 
 A WOMAN WITH A SOUL. 
 
 Composed, March 23, 1919 
 
 Commodore Hotel N. Y. City
 
 THE INVITATION OF A DOLLAR 
 
 If you care to see the world, just take a trip with me, 
 
 For I have the passport to any land or sea. 
 I m as welcome as the sunshine to merchant, peasant, queen, 
 
 And there isn t a city in the whole land, 
 That I haven t sometime seen. 
 
 I ve been in every known game from dominoes to chess, 
 And if you ll take a trip with me I ll show you all the rest. 
 I ve made the Kings bow down to me, 
 And pick me up with care, and wipe the mire from my face, 
 
 And kiss my silvery hair. 
 Many a beggar I have ifed, that didn t have a cent. 
 
 I ve been lost, borrowed, stolen and lent. 
 I know the paths of the underworld with their sin and crime and gore, 
 
 You d think that I d be tired, but I want to travel more. 
 
 I m not alone in this old world, I ve millions of relation, 
 
 And if you care to see the world, accept my invitation. 
 
 For as long as I am with you, I ll always be your friend, 
 For I m A Silver Dollar, and will be to the end.
 
 TO THE STORK 
 
 Long live the Stork, 
 The Bird of Joy 
 That brings us 
 Either girl or boy. 
 
 That makes no choice 
 Of rich or poor; 
 That he ll arrive 
 You may be sure.
 
 Dedicated to the American Boys who fought and fell with the Canadian Forces. 
 
 HE FELL WITH HIS FACE TOWARD BERLIN 
 
 America! America! And all you represent, 
 
 The day is not far distant for your stupor you ll repent, 
 
 You re the land of my forefathers, the home of my birth, 
 
 No grander a country on God s given earth; 
 
 And yet I leave your shores in disgust and join the Canadians 
 
 To fight for what you claim you are ftlBERTY. 
 
 I hear the call of downtrodden Belgium and bleeding France, 
 
 The cry of mutilated, starving children, the moans of outraged 
 
 Womanhood, I see Washington and La Fayette before the Goddess of 
 
 Liberty, begging her support, I hear the voice of Lincoln calling 
 
 You to arms to save Democracy. I see you in your slumber dreaming 
 
 All is well, while all about you the fiends of Autocracy are 
 
 Planning your destruction and I can stand the strain no longer.. 
 
 So while you slumber I will go, 
 
 And pit my life against your foe, 
 
 And if I live to get a Hun 
 
 I ve done my duty as your Son. 
 
 But you ll awake from out your trance 
 
 And pay the debt you owe to France. 
 
 And when you reach the firing line, 
 
 Alive or dead, I still am thine; 
 
 If I m alive, with you I ll be 
 
 If I am dead ETERNITY. 
 
 And if perchance you find the spot 
 
 Where I have fallen weep you not 
 
 Just put up a stake and tack on a tin, 
 
 "He fell with his face toward Berlin."
 
 WEST 
 
 TEL 
 
 UNION 
 
 AM 
 
 NCWCOMB CARLTON. IIDIMT GEORGE W. E. ATKINS. riHT VICI-rnuiDINT 
 
 RECEIVED AT 
 
 AKRON, OHIO, April 2, 1917. 
 
 UNCLE SAM, 
 
 Washington, D. C. 
 Care of Congress, 
 
 Dear Uncle Sam : If you ever drew the sword to beat a foe, 
 
 Why do it now, and call the Boys and off to France we ll go; 
 
 Let s plant the Stars and Stripes upon the fields of blood-stained sod, 
 
 And show the World that we are for Humanity and God. 
 
 I know how hard that you have tried to keep out of this thing, 
 But when they murder your Children and then go away and sing, 
 "We never did nor do not now, want any war with you, 
 "And will not have, if you will stand for anything we do." 
 
 There never was a time in the history of your Life, 
 
 When you ve had as just a cause for to join a bloody strife: 
 
 And remember, Dear Uncle, that France sent LaFayette, 
 
 So now, in Her dark hour of need, you can pay up that old debt. 
 
 And the sooner that Congress gives you a helping hand, 
 
 The quicker will the crowned heads go, and the People rule the land. 
 
 Congress, please let Uncle go. 
 
 The above telegram was sent night letter, April 2nd to Uncle Sam. 
 Congress let him go on the 5th and he arrived in France on the 13th. 
 Notified LaFayette he was there, and the crowned heads disappear 
 ed Nov. 11, 1918.
 
 HERE I AM, BOYS, BACK 
 
 Did you ever meet a woman, boys, 
 That just made your blood race wild 
 With hair as black as a raven 
 And features as sweet as a child? 
 
 When a glance from her eye or a smile from her lips 
 Would make every nerve in you creep, 
 And she looked so like an angel 
 As she lay there fast asleep. 
 
 Dressed in a Chinese costume 
 From her head to her dainty feet, 
 Why boys, I can t describe her, 
 There s no words half so sweet. 
 
 I ve ridden the ranges, blazed the trail 
 And with the savage fought; 
 I wanted a woman with a soul * 
 And she was the one I thought. 
 
 But she laughed at me and my western ways 
 And one day when she answered the phone 
 She said "Here s your coat and your hat A. L., 
 My husband will soon be home." 
 
 Well, I felt like a wolf on the prairie 
 That s sneaking here and there. 
 When I found she had a husband, 
 And I in his home and chair. 
 
 So here I am boys back, 
 Back on the River Maw, 
 And I guess that I ll be satisfied 
 To take myself a squaw. 
 
 For you know the law of the ranges 
 Is to be on the square and aloof 
 And I couldn t stand the feeling 
 Of a sneaking prairie wolf. 
 
 When I sold my cattle and said goodby 
 I had a handsome roll, 
 But I spent it on a woman, 
 And one without a soul. 
 
 Composed on the 9th day of May, 1919, Onondaga Hotel, 
 Syracuse, New York
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 *HR 
 
 Form L9-100m-9, 52(A8105)444
 
 PS 
 
 Runyan - 
 
 3 535 I want a woman 
 R86?i with a soul. 
 
 SEP 2 4 1953 
 
 PS 
 
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 R86?i 
 
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